Burn
by SkyKissed
Summary: The fire will rise because she asks it. She's only ever had to ask. Bane Centric, spoilers for DKR.


A/N: After seeing the film, I was fascinated by the depth of emotion between Bane and Talia. It was strangely...beautiful. Just something short exploring that relationship.

* * *

**BURN**

* * *

There are no attachments in the dark. The same walls exist, the same barriers as so often do when the light streams through his cell, filtering down into the hole, but they are _different_. There is no hope in the dark, only some ancient fear, motivating, terrible, and the knowledge that all things, light, love, attachments, are fleeting, so easily removed when cloaked in shadow. He does not see the things he loses, learns it is better not to collect them in the first place.

His freedom is taken from him (if he ever had it), replaced with shadows that lick across the bars of his prison, break what remains of his spirit as easily as the rope breaks the men's backs as they chase the illusion of hope. He has no home beyond this hole, beyond the dark.

He has _nothing_ to lose and there is a strength in that. He takes solace in _that_ instead of some dream, instead of escape, and finds that he can be content, if not happy.

He is content until she enters his life. Then there is the girl, a child he does not ask for and nothing is quite right. Knowingly or not, she shifts the balance of things, lends purpose. Rationality and the voice in his head tell him to simply let the child be. There is nothing to gain from it (but he has nothing to lose, no purpose, no attachments). It is a barely a thought when he rushes forward to grab her, protect her (foolish, wrong, an attachment that will destroy him in the end). She is a small thing, innocent of this place and he supposes that is the reason he saves her. She is something worth protecting. He cannot save her mother but that matters little. He has saved _her_ and the girl stares up at him in something like adoration, blue eyes and a small smile.

That will never change. Years later, the man, the prisoner, the stranger, remains her world, her friend, an anchor even in the darkness of that hell. And he knows, with a certainty that almost worries him, that the feeling is mutual. That this girl, no more than a child, is stronger than she knows, holds more sway than she has any right.

She is not innocent; there is no innocence in hell.

She is not young, no matter how desperately her face says otherwise; there is no time for youth.

She simply _is_ and there is a beauty in that. A timeless, halfway ancient quality that darts about those impossibly blue eyes that deserves his protection, his loyalty. She asks him of the outside world and he answers to the best of his abilities, smiles when she comes to him instead of the more knowledgeable men. His ward inspires pride as she stands tall beneath the earth, something worthy of admiration, respect, as she not only lives but thrives. She is grace, where he is a brute thing, elegant and every bit the princess she was born to be.

It is not even a question when he offers himself up for her. It never has been.

She is an attachment he clings to, even in the dark, knowing she will be stripped from him, unmake him. He retains his hold regardless, choosing loyalty over life as the men descend upon him. As she begins the climb, backed in that halo of light, he catches his little friend's eyes, so blue, so impossibly old in a child's face.

She _asks _him to live, though her word will always be absolute where he is concerned. She asks him to live for _her_ even as he offers up his life.

She's only ever had to ask. Even as pain wracks his broken body he knows he will survive this; he fears death but he fears losing his friend (her) more. He will live because she asks it, regardless of the cost.

There are no attachments in the dark but when Talia returns it is in the light. She comes back for him and while there is sorrow tinging those eyes when she look on him, broken and an echo of himself, there is no pity, no loathing. Her father see the scars, the mask...

...His friend sees the sacrifice, the years between them. She sees loyalty unerring and as effective as the assassin's her father commands. He's near delirious with fever when they finally arrive but he feels her fingers across his cheek, cool and familiar, tracing over the scars (in admiration, in gratitude, but not fear, never fear).

She returns for _him_, for her friend.

Her voice is soft in the desert air, soothing the aches (he should have died; he should be dead, never will as long as she asks him to stay) coursing through his body. Her fingers thread lightly through his own, so small in comparison. With a gentle squeeze, she asks him to follow her, to leave this place.

And because she asks, he will follow. He will _always_ follow.

That will never change. Years later, with all that has happened (the death of her father, her new life, his new reputation) _this_ remains the same. Bane will be the monster she needs if she asks it, kill without question or regret because she asks it. The girl, never quite a child, born in hell stands beside him a woman, beautiful and terrible, ancient eyes scanning over Gotham. There is no emotion breaking over that pale face, nothing like remorse (no room for it, no reason for it), only the omnipresent determination cultivated by so many years in shadow.

She asks for Gotham (impossible) and he gives it to her.

She asks for Batman (impossible) and he gives him to her.

She asks and so he will succeed.

And when she turns, there is something like a smile playing near the corner of her lips, small and carefully hidden but there for him to catch. She will reach up, brush fingers over the mask, over his cheek, and that hint of regret will pass through her eyes unfailingly. The visible reminder of the sacrifice he's made for her (and will never once regret, no matter the pain). The smile widens ever so slightly, her thumb smoothing away a fleck of ash.

She asks him, her voice soft in the winter air, to destroy this place; she asks him to damn millions, to let this city burn. She asks him to follow her and let this world die.

And because it is her, he will, always.

She asks and so the fire will rise.


End file.
